


Fakeout

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Swearing, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis learned how to wrap.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Fakeout

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“He’s such a little brat sometimes,” Gladiolus mutters under his breath, joining Ignis in the locker room like Ignis is just supposed to discern the first half of the conversation by reading Gladiolus’ mind. 

Without any hints, Ignis can at least guess: “You mean Noctis.”

“Of course I mean Noctis,” Gladiolus grunts. He wrenches out his tracksuit and bangs the locker closed. “You know any other royal brats we have to deal with?”

Ignis lifts a brow and doesn’t respond. He does understand the sentiment, because some days, Noctis is ridiculously difficult. Gladiolus doesn’t have the benefit of knowing him since childhood. Noctis is, technically, still a child, but not the tiny, adorable, sweet kind he used to be. And Gladiolus is a moody teenager that Ignis is marginally closer to in age. Some days Ignis feels like Noctis is indeed impossible, but other days, it doesn’t matter, because Noctis may as well be his brother, and Ignis would die for that irritating princeling. 

Ignis waits for Gladiolus to wrestle into the grey sweatshirt he wears for workouts, and then the two of them head for the training room together. They’ve only just started sparring around their mutually busy schedules, and most of the time, Ignis loves it. Gladiolus is definitely a worthy teacher. But he also has a very similar job to Ignis, and they tend to waste too much time just talking about Noctis, when the rest of Ignis’ world already revolves around him. 

As they approach the middle of the towering hall, Gladiolus mutters, “So you taught him how to wrap presents, right? That was you?”

“Yes. I did, actually.” It was quite fun, even though they made a complete mess of the Citadel’s craft room. Noctis seemed to enjoy himself. He _can_ be quite giving, given the opportunity.

“Well, you did a shit job.”

Gladiolus turns and gets into position, but Ignis doesn’t. He blinks at Gladiolus and asks, “What?” Sure, Noctis started off with lumpy, ugly packages that looked like exactly what they were: something wrapped by a child. But by the end of the evening, it was a different story. “He was doing excellently when I left him. Even edges, appropriate amount of tape—he even mastered making curly bows.”

“Yeah, sure, and the present he gave me looked great—but there wasn’t a damn thing _in_ it!”

Ignis abruptly bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“And the little shit did it to me right in the lobby, too! So there were, like, six witnesses, including my dad! He rushes up to me like he did this amazing thing, and he passes it to me like it’s pure gold, and then here’s me, thanking him like an _idiot_! I was all proud to get a royal present, and everybody’s telling me how awesome I am that the prince likes me, so I get home and even _tell Iris about it_ , and then I open it up in front of the whole family, and it’s just more wrapping around fucking _air._ ”

Ignis shifts his arms and lifts a hand to his mouth as though considering the situation. Really, he’s just stifling more laughter. 

“I’m gonna kick his _ass_ next lesson. ...Alright, you ready?” Gladiolus summons his sword.

But Ignis holds up a hand in surrender, needing a minute. 

Gladiolus sighs, “Traitor,” and waits.


End file.
